I Can't Help Myself
by Lyric Medlie
Summary: When it comes to Ginny, Harry is quite helpless.


I Can't Help Myself

It's so sweet how they're almost never seen apart. It's adorable the way his eyes always linger across her chocolate eyes and perfectly pink lips. It's beautiful the way he cherishes her. It's normal—for them—the way he acts towards her and about her. And it's just so _them_.

He treats her like a queen, his little quirks shining through his every act. He's chivalrous and sweet and more selfless then anyone she knows. He loves her with everything he has, and it shows in each little thing he does. She sees it in the way he kisses her on the forehead, an arm draped across her shoulder in what looks like a lazy, casual manner, but she knows differently. And whenever he tries his hardest to make things her way, she sees it even stronger.

"_I can't help myself,"_ He murmurs into her ear, before gently gliding his lips against it, one of his strong, calloused hands resting on her hip.

"_Don't," _she murmurs almost quieter, her eyes slipping shut in satisfaction and complete serenity—he has this way with her.

"_I don't want to,"_ he promises her, a small smile gracing his lips. _"I couldn't even if I did." _And in that moment everything is a perfection that neither can explain.

"Harry," Ginny giggles, an enormous smile turning her lips up beautifully. "Stop it." She giggles again, and even though her voice is laced with a sort of pleading tone, he knows she doesn't really want him to.

"Nah." His voice vibrates at her neck, and she tilts her head back slightly and more than a bit subconsciously.

"We're in public, Harry!" Her voice is hard to understand between her shrieks of delight and melodious giggles.

"Gin," was his only sweet, muffled response, his face still buried a bit behind a curtain of her hair, and in the crook of her cream toned neck, where he was currently peppering kisses. Ginny's smile was breathtaking and her beautiful giggle was like a tinkling bell that Harry couldn't ever get enough of.

And when she shrieks again, a new string of giggles coming, too, his hands tickling at her sides, he murmurs softly, inaudibly, _"I can't help myself."_

It's one of _those_ days. No, she's not a girly girl who cries every other second, a trait that he is so very pleased with, but, even if she is a strong, brave girl, she still has her moments. Everybody does, and today had not been her day. Quidditch stress—she just didn't understand what the team keeper had against her—a new article in the tabloid by her least favorite writer—Rita Skeeter never did learn about privacy—and one could only take so much Ron—he really did have the emotional range of a teaspoon—every tiny little moment lead to her position right now. Puffy eyes, quivering lips, tousled hair and tear stained cheeks didn't delude from her beauty, but that didn't mean to say that it didn't break Harry's heart to see his love in such a state.

"I'm just sick of it," she hiccupped miserably. "I don't even know why you still love me." And its comments like that that Harry cannot take. Quickly, he grabs Ginny up into his arms, and places both hands firmly under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"How could you say that?" He penetrates her eyes, burning his earnest love for her into the depth of her soul. He's almost daring her to disagree with him, to challenge his love again—she won't.

"It's just that… I mean… I-" He cuts her off in the gentlest way, a soft kiss pressed against the corner of her lips.

"Ginevra," he murmurs, his eyes never wavering. "I love you with all I have. You're the center of my universe, the reason I'm still alive today, the reason for everything. Gin, you're my everything. I love you so much." His emerald green eyes begin to sparkle with the gradually collecting tears that always seem to come when he professes his love for her. This just so happens to be one of the most important subjects of all time.

And the beautiful thing about it all is that she believes him. She can see it all in his eyes, and hear it in his voice. And he's not a liar, he means everything he says.

"Promise?" Ginny's timid reply echoes against his ears, and a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Promise." And he does.

Although it's—quite frankly—none of their business, the Weasley brothers always find a way to meddle into their little sister's life. Whether it's lecturing her on Quidditch moves from the position none of them have played, or style tips—that one she'll never quite understand—or her love life, they always jump right in. Ginny, possessing the temper she does, has never really been fond of this little point of her relationship with her brothers. From the day she was born they were overprotective of her. As a little girl she wasn't allowed to go catch frogs in the nearby river, because Bill was worried she'd catch a cold, and none of her brothers allowed her to practice riding a broom. Her childhood flying experiences were still on the down low. But, even though Ginny was very familiar with this, it hadn't bothered her to the degree that it had just recently begun too. Sure it was horrible when they refused to let her fight in the battle—she got away with that one, though—or when they would lecture her on Quidditch matches, telling her that _'you pulled a dangerous stunt out there!'_, nothing compared to when they jumped into her love life. Not only her love life, because she had somewhat tolerated the Michael Corner and Dean Thomas drama once upon a time, but her marriage. Which is exactly what was happening that mushy April evening.

"Well I was just saying that-"

"I don't see why you were saying anything to start with!"

"He can say whatever he wants to, Gin."

"No! He can't just prance in here and-"

"Who made you the boss?"

"What, are you five? That's the best you can come up with?"

"You all need to be acting your own age."

"Because you're acting your age, Percy."

"Don't snap on him! He didn't do anything!"

"Yet."

"We didn't do anything either."

"No, you never do anything!"

"I don't!"

"Don't act innocent!"

"I'm not!"

Six loud voices could be heard bouncing off one another's as the sibling war raged on. It hadn't been going on too long—some fights lasted an hour or two—but it didn't look like it would be calming down anytime soon. Of course if you throw six Weasley children together and give them something to disagree about, it could last for hours. When you first joined the family it seemed more than a bit awkward when a battle would erupt, but you just got used to it. Audrey had been frightened at first, new to the large family thing, though Angelina had just rolled her eyes and continued on with her meal. Fleur had been given time to familiarize herself with the Weasley's before the fights really got going, considering she was the first to say that the arguments didn't really pick up until after the war and she had been a part of the family for a bit of time. Hermione and Harry considered themselves Weasley's long before it was official, and knew that sometimes Ginny and Ron couldn't get along, and that George would try his hardest to get some feud going. But, these fights were the worst and the most uncomfortable for any outsider.

As the nearly childish argument continued on, it became quite clear what they were fighting about. Sometimes, the fights were all the same. Sometimes any outsider would just hear the voices but be unable to put any story together. But, there were times like this when they accused their baby sister of things that weren't of any importance, and weren't anybody's business but hers, that got out of hand. She would struggle to keep a grip, but be unable to keep herself from bouncing out of rage, to hurt to some other emotion that couldn't really be categorized as anything other than some strange mix of sadness and anger. And, they all know, that the end of the fight is the where the most injuries are made and the most wounds cut, for the only reason they would end is if someone went too far—which is just what happened this time.

"So…" Fleur tried for what she felt to be the hundredth time to make conversation between the ones seated in the living room. Fleur, with Victoire in her lap, Audrey, Angelina, Hermione and Harry sat awkwardly in their seats, pretending that they weren't listening to the fight, when they all knew that they were in fact. It wasn't all that hard to do, considering the siblings weren't trying to mask their voices. You would've thought that maybe somebody would've wanted to put up a _muffliato_ charm, but nobody did.

"Maybe we should…" Audrey let her voice trail away, realizing that it was no use. Nobody was in a mood to talk, and nobody was brave enough to walk into the kitchen and break up their fight.

But, as terrifying as it was to even think about getting in between the Weasley children and a fight, it didn't seem all that awful at the next comment to come out of none other than Percy Weasley's mouth. The living room let out a collective gasp, that sounded a tad bit rehearsed, and Harry jumped to his feet and raced into the kitchen. Even though part of him knew it was a bad idea to meddle, and that Ginny hated it when Harry fought her battles for her, he couldn't let this one slip.

Hours later, when Harry and Ginny were safely in their little flat, laying side by side, Ginny brought up the question that had been bothering her since he burst into the kitchen earlier that night.

"Why?" She asked in between a massive yawn, and Harry knew exactly what she meant. He kissed the side of her head sweetly, before murmuring,

"I can't help myself."


End file.
